Lioren sat heavily on the plush velvet sofa in his study, one hand frantically trying to tame his completely ruined green hair. Across from him, Evelia was doing precisely the same thing, smoothing her raven-black locks back into their elaborate updo with furious, practiced grace, as though she hadn’t just put the Grand Duke of the North into an ungodly headlock over a desk.
The room was filled with that wonderfully absurd, suffocating stillness that usually follows two grown adults acting like feral ten-year-olds.
Near the cold fireplace, Therin and Caldrin stood completely frozen, looking like two men who had barely survived witnessing a national catastrophe. Caldrin was still staring at the floor, where three stray sheets of requisition parchment had drifted during the struggle.
Evelia was two years older than Lioren, and their relationship could best be described as a volatile, fiercely protective blood sport. They loved each other, deep down, beneath the layers of petty insults, elbow jabs, and hair-pulling, but putting them in the same room for more than an hour without an argument was statistically impossible.
"I thought you weren’t coming," Lioren growled, wincing as his fingers snagged on a tangle near his temple.
Evelia smoothed down the front of her maroon traveling dress, her breathing finally evening out. "Well, Sherlyn is getting better, so I decided to come at the last minute. Clearly, my timing was impeccable. I arrived just in time to hear the most absurd, utterly unhinged news in the entire kingdom."
She looked at him dead-on, her dark eyes narrowing. "Tell me it’s a rumor. Please. Tell me you didn’t actually do it."
"You should probably start believing it," Lioren grumbled, slumping against the cushions and smoothing his tunic. "Because unfortunately for your blood pressure, it’s very real."
Evelia let out a long, ragged exhale, resting her forehead in her palm for a brief second. "Do Mother and Father even know about this?"
Lioren rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. "Uummm... I was... actually just about to sit down and write them a letter. But apparently, news travels considerably faster when carried by screaming gossips than when written down with proper ink."
"I cannot believe you," Evelia muttered, shaking her head in sheer, breathless exasperation.
She leaned back against the sofa, her sharp gaze pinning him to the cushions. "Lioren, you have spent the last six years dodging every eligible debutante. Lady Cecily practically threw herself off a balcony to get your attention at the Midsummer Ball, and you didn’t even look up from your roast pheasant! You’ve shown zero interest in getting married... none!"
She paused. Her eyes widened slightly. The gears in her head turned, rapidly clicking into place with clarity.
"Oh," Evelia blinked, her lips parting in a quiet, sudden realization. "So... you’re not interested in ladies."
Lioren gave her a long, flat look. "Yes, Sister. Good that you know about it now."
"Okay, fine! So you prefer men. Great. Wonderful," Evelia said, leaning forward and slamming her hands onto her knees. "But why him?! Why Prince Xavion? Why the enemy prince whose entire presence here is a walking political landmine from the war? What are you playing at, Lioren?"
She started firing off theories like an overeager prosecutor.
"Is it political? Are you trying to anchor the northern border treaty yourself? Or..." Evelia stopped, a sudden, wicked little glint sparking in her dark eyes. "Or is my foolish little brother actually falling in love? Did you two meet in secret? Is there some tragic, forbidden romance I don’t know about?"
"I am doing this for a noble, high-level reason that a brute like you could never possibly comprehend!" Lioren snapped back, puffing out his chest defensively.
Evelia’s expression shifted in a split second from amused teasing to pure, unadulterated danger. "Who are you calling a brute?" she asked softly, her fingers twitching into claw-like shapes as she leaned toward him. "Do you want me to shake your head again?"
"If you value the hair you love so much," Lioren warned, pointing a finger at her, "you’re more than welcome to step across this rug and try it!"
"I will gladly take that offer..."
"My lady, please," Therin interrupted softly, stepping forward from the shadow of the bookcase before the two of them could turn the study into an arena for the second time today. "If I may... everyone in the capital was thoroughly shocked by His Grace’s declaration last night. Your reaction is entirely... understandable."
"Hey!" Lioren objected instantly, glaring at his aide. "Choking someone does not qualify as an ’understandable reaction’! Unless you caught me sleeping with your husband. Wait, not that I would ever do that!"
Evelia ignored her brother entirely, turning her head toward Therin with a desperate, pleading look. "Therin, please tell me this is just another one of his terrible, elaborate jokes. Tell me he’s going to go to the King at noon and say it was all a hilarious misunderstanding."
Therin said nothing. He simply gave her a small, sympathetic smile. Evelia stared at him, waiting for the reassurance that never came. Slowly, her gaze shifted toward Caldrin.
Caldrin met her eyes. He, too, offered her the same quiet, sympathetic smile.
Lioren looked genuinely offended this time. He slowly sat up straight, his hands coming to rest on the desk as his expression changed with alarming seriousness. The playful nonsense vanished from his face, replaced by the grim determination of a man who had just been personally challenged by fate itself.
"I am not joking," Lioren said, his voice dropping its usual playful edge. "I am completely serious about this. In fact, I am as serious about this as I was when I was seven and tried to run away from home to join the northern mercenary guild, only to get caught before I even made it past the estate gates. And I meant it then, just like I mean this now."
He leaned across the small tea table separating their sofas, looking his sister straight in the eye. "Prince Xavion needs to be here, Evelia. He needs to marry me, and he needs to be under House Roscaire’s protection. It is better for him, it is better for us, and it is the only way to keep the peace from collapsing into absolute ruin. You have to trust me on this."
Evelia went quiet.
The fierce, angry energy drained out of her, replaced by a deep, calculating stillness. She stared at her brother’s face, searching his bright eyes for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of a lie.
Slowly, very slowly, Evelia turned her head toward Therin and Caldrin. She gave them a quiet, look that silently asked: Are you hearing this?
"Yes, we heard that explanation as well, Lady Evelia," Caldrin said dryly, crossing his broad arms over his chest. "He offered nothing beyond that, despite our repeated attempts to learn more."
Lioren crossed his arms, looking remarkably pleased with himself. See? His story was consistent! It made absolute, total sense! (Even if he couldn’t mention the words novel, future villain, or apocalypse without being locked in a padded room).
Evelia studied her brother for a long moment. Instead of grabbing him by the neck again, Evelia simply leaned back against the plush cushions, a small, dangerously intriguing smile curling the edge of her lips.
"Well," she murmured, her dark eyes sparkling with a fresh wave of curiosity. "Now I am genuinely intrigued."
Lioren’s brow furrowed. "Intrigued by what?"
"By Prince Xavion Astervan, of course," Evelia replied smoothly, smoothing down her maroon skirts with elegant, slow movements. "If this broken, half-blind enemy prince somehow managed to make my stubborn, foolish little brother burn the King’s greatest favor just to bring him home... he must be quite extraordinary."
She stood up gracefully from the sofa, looking down at Lioren with a mischievous, teasing smirk that made his stomach drop.
"I am quite eager to meet the man who has somehow driven my brother to twice the madness he once possessed."